


Mystrade Prompt Challenge October 2018

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mystrade Prompt Challenge October 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-23 19:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: My contribution to the challenge. Won't be able to do a ficlet a day or so, but I'll post all of the ones I manage to do in chapters.





	1. Comfort

Prompts: "I would rather you hadn't." - "Not without you." - "on a Friday after work" - "gloves" - "light switch" - "shake" - "tower"

Mycroft sighs as he walks slowly through the hallway. His shoulders are slumped after this week… this long week that had threatened to never end. He looks back briefly at the front door, where he has left his jacket, shoes and briefcase. Walking with those into the house would feel like taking work with him, and that is something he absolutely wants to avoid, at least for a little while. It’s not like the days have been particularly bad or stressful… they had just been long and tedious – one small, meaningless incident after the other, never any chance to rest. Well, it is Friday now, and for once he has chosen to clock out like any regular employee and actually take advantage of the weekend. Though if he’s being entirely truthful, it is almost Saturday already… 

To his surprise the rest of the house is dark. Greg is usually home at this time of day, especially on a Friday after work. Mycroft sighs again.

“Greg?” he asks into the darkness.

“In the sitting room!” 

The reply arrives almost immediately. A small measure of tension leaves Mycroft’s body as he hears Greg’s voice, though he’s still curious as to why Greg is sitting in the darkness. One more turned corner and he knows, as the light of the flames dances across the hallway floor, spilling out from the sitting room door. He smiles to himself and retrieves his hand from the light switch. No harsh, artificial light tonight. Only the soft glow of the fire. Perfect.

“Hey darling,” Greg welcomes him in an equally soft voice, sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. “Come here.”

Mycroft can only nod as his feet find their way towards his husband automatically. Then he sees the small dinner of finger food and drinks arranged on the low table and his heart does a jump… though not as big a jump as when he realises just what Greg is wearing. It is that particular, charcoal grey suit and… oh god… the smooth leather gloves. He swallows and feels most of his blood immediately rush south. Still, he collects himself, as good as he can as he comes to stand on the soft carpet next to the sofa.

“Didn’t you have dinner yet?” he asks.

“Not without you,” Greg replies with a smile.

“I’d rather you hadn’t. You don’t have to wait for me…”

“Come here.”

Mycroft nods and goes willingly to his knees between Greg’s legs. He doesn’t even attempt to sit on the sofa. A bit of rearrangement has him sitting comfortably, head leaned against Greg’s knee, arms wrapped around one leg. He buries his face in the suit fabric and breathes in the scent of his favourite cologne. Then Greg reaches out and puts one hand under Mycroft’s chin to raise it. Mycroft shivers against the leather glove, looking up at Greg like he worships him.

“Open up,” Greg says and feeds Mycroft a small piece of bread topped with cream cheese.

Mycroft takes the offering with gratitude, then proceeds to lick off the bit of cheese that has stuck to the leather with his tongue. Greg feeds him slowly, taking some bites for himself in between, holding out his glove time and time again so Mycroft can run his tongue over it. They take a long time to eat, but by the end Mycroft is a satisfied puddle of bliss at Greg’s feet, sipping a bit of port wine. His head is still resting against Greg’s knee and he is playing idly with the cloth on the man’s trousers, drawing his fingers up and down, caressing Greg’s leg. As the wine is finished, Greg takes the glass from Mycroft’s hand and places it next to his own on the table.

“Are you too tired?” Greg asks in a low voice and for all the relaxation, Mycroft tenses immediately.

“No,” he replies, knowing exactly what the question meant.

“Good,” Greg replies and then there is a hand in Mycroft’s hair, pulling it backward. “Come up here.”

It takes a moment, but soon Mycroft is arranged lying on the sofa, Greg towering over him, one knee between his legs, hands on either side of Mycroft’s head. Greg smiles warmly at him and leans down to bestow a sweet kiss on his lips. Mycroft sighs – but this time in contentment.

“I don’t need much from you tonight. I just need you to come for me. Is that alright?”

Mycroft nods. No matter how long they are together Greg will always, without a fault, ask. He has never once felt unsafe in his hands, no matter what outlandish thing they have attempted. And everytime Greg asks, Mycroft falls even deeper in love.

“Close your eyes and stretch your arms above your head darling.”

And Mycroft does. He feels Greg sit down on his thigh, then open his buttons so that his chest is exposed. He thinks he is relaxed, but only until he feels the leather gloves on his skin, dragging down slowly, fingers catching on his nipples to elicit a slight gasp. He hears Greg chuckle above him, then his trousers are opened, just wide enough to expose his interested cock.

Greg doesn’t draw things out. One hand on Mycroft’s erection is enough to almost make him come on the spot, so conditioned is he to the feeling of the leather gliding over him. He shakes in Greg’s grasp, as the man positions himself next to Mycroft on the sofa, one hand on him, the other gently pulling his hair. Mycroft has always been silent during sex. He has never been one to talk much. So now he is simply gasping, moaning at the way Greg is playing his body like an instrument he has mastered. He feels warm and cherished – safe in these hands, which only bring him pleasure. He balances on the edge for a while, until Greg lowers his head and sucks on his nipple. With a shout he spills himself over Greg’s hand and can’t refrain from looking down at himself, covering the dark leather with white streaks. Greg smiles around his nipple, gives it a last lick and then looks at Mycroft, who responds with a blissed out smile.

“Sleep darling,” Greg whispers and pulls Mycroft even closer, so that the other can bury his head in Greg’s chest. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft breathes and already feels himself drift off inside this cocoon of warmth and love.


	2. Let's Go

Prompts: “And the problem is…?” - “Wait, he said what?” - “in the car” - “e-mail” - “perfume or cologne”

Greg smiled shyly as Mycroft placed one hand on his cheek and leaned in for another sweet kiss. He couldn’t get enough of the man, and apparently Mycroft was feeling the same way. They sat next to each other, bodies pressed close together, in the backseat of Mycroft’s car. Anthea had been considerate enough to take the front seat next to the driver, and the privacy screen had been up for the whole drive. Greg smiled against Mycroft’s lips and licked across them, which was rewarded with a chuckle and a response in kind.

“I don’t want to give you back,” Mycroft whispered as his right hand roamed possessively over Greg’s chest. “Not yet.”

“I don’t exactly want to go either,” Greg replied with a sigh.

He had done it. He had finally done it last Friday night. Armed with a bit of liquid courage he had driven to Mycroft’s home and rang the doorbell. He had almost wanted to bolt as the door opened, but then he had been confronted with a slightly disheveled Mycroft in shirtsleeves, looking at him with wide, confused eyes, and he couldn’t help himself anymore. He had confessed to his attraction… his affection. It had to come out at some point. Mycroft had pulled him into the house and then snogged him hard against the wall, until they were panting and rutting against each other.

The rest of the weekend had been a blur. They had tried and succeeded in fucking each other senseless in various rooms across the house, switching roles as suited their fancy at the time, never letting their hands off each other for more than a few minutes at the time. Now it was Monday and time to go back to reality. But Greg didn’t really want to.

Mycroft buried his face in Greg’s neck and breathed in the man’s unique scent. “You know we could be on a plane within the hour. Just go away.”

“Where would we even go? Some tropical island?” Greg laughed.

“Why not? I want to spend time with you somewhere, where you show a lot of skin…” Mycroft said and bit Greg’s neck playfully.

“You’re a filthy, filthy man,” Greg breathed. “Never stop.”

“You inspire me, darling.”

Greg laughed and briefly let the notion pass through his head. Mycroft and him. Away from everything. Just–

“What was that?” Greg asked.

“The notification noise for the really important e-mails. My apologies,” Mycroft said and retreated from Greg to fish his mobile out of this pocket. Mycroft’s carefree smile was soon wiped off his face and replaced with a look of weary annoyance.

“It’s Sherlock,” he said.

“And the problem is…?” Greg asked.

“He raided a store… demanded samples of all colognes they had in stock so he can analyse them to solve the Harrington case. He is now in custody in a cell… and wants to see you so you can bail him out.”

“Why me?” Greg groaned.

“Apparently he claims you have authorised his–”

“Wait, he said what?”

Mycroft cleared his throat. “He claims you have authorised his access to the store and their merchandise… and also makes you responsible for the incident.”

Greg put his face in both hands and took a deep breath. Then he shook his head.

“Fuck this.”

“Pardon me?” Mycroft asked.

“Fuck this and fuck your brother. May he rot in the cell for as long as it takes. Neither of us is going to bail him out, do you hear me? We’re going.”

Mycroft blinked confusedly. “Going where?”

“To that tropical island. I want a private house on the beach. One with these infinity pools, so I can fuck you in the water while we look out at the ocean. Every day for at least two weeks.”

“Greg…”

Without hesitation Greg slipped over to straddle Mycroft’s lap and held his head with both hands, kissing and rutting against him at the same time. Mycroft’s body responded immediately, straining up towards him, making their erections rub against each other.

“Let’s go.”

Mycroft cleared his throat and reached for the intercom button.

“Anthea?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I believe you’ve long wanted a shot at running this whole business on your own. Well, today’s your lucky day. Tell the driver bring us back to the house and wait for my instructions to book a flight and hotel. Have the inspector’s and my schedule cleared for the next two weeks. I trust you can handle England during that time?”

“With ease.”

“Good.”

Mycroft removed his finger from the button and they both felt the car slow down, then turn around. Greg actually giggled.

“We’re really doing it, aren’t we?”

“On every surface I can find.”


End file.
